Claude took a small breath as he tried to think of how to explain this to Guy. He hadn't forgotten that he'd suggested heraldry as an alternative energy source for Auldrant. In theory, it should have been able to work, but there were definitely some limitations, too. Actually, he was pretty sure he'd implied that neither he nor Dias were heraldry users during one of their forays into the basement, but he obviously hadn't had a chance to go into details back then.
"Some crests can be used to enhance weapons or power gadgets," he told him. "But for people, it's...well, you're either born with the talent to use it, or...you're not."
Evidence seemed to suggest that it was a recessive gene among Earthlings, and probably people from Expel, too. After all, his father had been quite proficient at it -- something Guy had witnessed for himself the night the zombies invaded Doyleton -- but Claude and his mother had never been suited for that sort of fighting style. While he could see how that would bother some people, Claude had always been okay with that. It just meant he had his own way of doing things: techniques that were, save for a few exceptions, different from how his parents operated on the battlefield. There was nothing wrong with not knowing how to use heraldry.
And yet the doctors had seen fit to change him, to alter the very structure of his genetics somehow. What else had they done to him, aside from giving him the ability to heal? What price would he have to pay for it?
Claude rubbed at the compresses over his eyes in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain, but it only seemed to make it worse. "I don't know why," he answered, his voice tight. "There was this...bright light hanging over me, and I couldn't do anything to protect my eyes." All of his memories of the experiment were seared with the recollection of how uncomfortable it'd been to even crack his eyes open at the doctor. The thought made Claude tense up for a moment, but he tried to make himself relax.
"I think it must have done something to my body," he darkly added. "Altered my DNA somehow, maybe..."
no subject
"Some crests can be used to enhance weapons or power gadgets," he told him. "But for people, it's...well, you're either born with the talent to use it, or...you're not."
Evidence seemed to suggest that it was a recessive gene among Earthlings, and probably people from Expel, too. After all, his father had been quite proficient at it -- something Guy had witnessed for himself the night the zombies invaded Doyleton -- but Claude and his mother had never been suited for that sort of fighting style. While he could see how that would bother some people, Claude had always been okay with that. It just meant he had his own way of doing things: techniques that were, save for a few exceptions, different from how his parents operated on the battlefield. There was nothing wrong with not knowing how to use heraldry.
And yet the doctors had seen fit to change him, to alter the very structure of his genetics somehow. What else had they done to him, aside from giving him the ability to heal? What price would he have to pay for it?
Claude rubbed at the compresses over his eyes in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain, but it only seemed to make it worse. "I don't know why," he answered, his voice tight. "There was this...bright light hanging over me, and I couldn't do anything to protect my eyes." All of his memories of the experiment were seared with the recollection of how uncomfortable it'd been to even crack his eyes open at the doctor. The thought made Claude tense up for a moment, but he tried to make himself relax.
"I think it must have done something to my body," he darkly added. "Altered my DNA somehow, maybe..."